The Grind
by you-know-its-actually-funny
Summary: First night of the summer holidays and Tony is out of weed, and he's not gonna like who's here to the rescue. Highschool AU. Tony/Loki.
1. Chapter 1

**the grind**

First night of summer holidays, before his senior year, and Tony is out of weed.

"Fuuuuuuuck," he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. Didn't he save some specifically for this occasion?

 _No, you bought some, tried a little, then smoked it all in one go._

Dang.

He thumps his foot against the floor, hands on hips, thinking. Where can he find weed at 9pm on a school night?

Don't get him wrong, Tony isn't a pothead or anything. But ever since his father gave him a shot of whiskey on his fourth birthday, or the time after a particularly rowdy house party he nabbed a few puffs of a joint Uncle Obie was sharing with his business friends, Tony finds he doesn't discriminate with his substance abuse. If someone's offering, he's taking. As much as medically possible.

That being said, he isn't oblivious to different substances and they're…effects. And dammit, he just really wants to get high right now.

He whips out his phone and calls up some _actual_ potheads.

" _Dude!_ " Clint drawls and sure enough, Tony hears the distinct sound of bubbling on the end of the line.

"Hey man," Tony says, making it as sarcastic as possible. The bubbling stops and he hears a rustle.

" _Oh my god_ ," someone says in a harsh whisper, " _is that Tony?_ "

" _Stop—stop blowing it in my face, yes, it's Tony._ "

" _Am I here?_ "

" _What the fuck are you talking about?_ "

"Hey Nat," Tony calls. More rustling and then suddenly Natasha's dry voice fills his ear.

" _Mr Stark, this is Special Agent Nat-Dog requesting your word on a few questions._ "

"Special Agent Nat-Dog has a-go from Mr Stark."

" _Were you or were you not, Mr Stark, present at Clint's party with one Miss Gamora last night?_ "

" _Oh my god, Nat._ "

Tony closes his eyes. He knows where this is going. "This statement is true."

A deep breath in preparation on the other end. " _Did you or did you not, tap that? Mr Stark._ "

A pause for his grin. "Yes."

" _Yes!_ " Natasha laughs triumphantly and the phone hears a tumble and some bickering. Clint's sigh signals that he is once again the owner of the receiver.

" _I made out with her. I got her all buttered up for you._ "

"Clint, ew, people are not dinner rolls," Tony says. "No, look, I called you for a reason. I have a situation. Or, well, a lack of. You got any weed?"

" _Whaaaaaaaat._ " Clint suddenly sounds far away. " _We, hah, actually thought we'd swing by yours later, man_ ," he finishes with an awkward laugh.

Horror dawns on Tony. "So you don't have any."

A lighter flick. Bubbling. A drag and an exhale. " _As of now._ "

"Fucking dammit," Tony whines. "I am not going to sleep sober on the last night of the school year. I refuse."

" _Are we going on a road trip?_ "

"I'm ready in five."

Natasha starts chanting in the background. " _Road trip! Road trip! Someone get me some raspberry twizzlers before I fucking kill myself._ "

True to his word, Tony is waiting outside his house with a backpack slung over his shoulder when Clint's beat up car comes rumbling down the street, some 90s throwback hip-hop booming from the stereo. It's ugly brown and has a good number of dents, but out of all their cars it's lasted the longest, so he can't help but feel fond when he sees it.

Clint's got sunglasses on and Tony makes sure to call him a loser for it as he climbs into the back. Natasha's in the passenger seat, hoodie over her red side fringe, boots up on the dashboard. She has a bag of twizzlers in her lap and is already half way through her first rope.

"Fantastic timing to run out, as usual," Tony mumbles as Clint pulls away from the curb with a little squeak of the wheels.

"You're telling _us_? What did you do, buy an eighth and smoke it all in one go?"

Natasha laughs.

"Shut up. At least I'm not fucking drooling at 9pm. Are you even okay to drive?"

"I'm perfect," Clint tries to say, but his mouth has gone to flour and his letters slur. Tony nods, sitting back.

They start bumbling along, twisting through the suburbs. Clint and Natasha are trying to share a conversation but end up exchanging faces more than words. Tony doesn't feel the need to contribute anything; they all know where they're headed and sure enough they're sliding passed the park, through a narrow bricked tunnel that stands isolated and useless in the middle of the road and rumbling to a stop outside a sand-stone unit.

With a few text messages, the door creeps open and a greasy looking guy called MODOK slips out. He's an older kid—he would've been out of high school for a few years now—and is the local hook up. No one's first choice, unless you were new at this. The guy was flaky as hell and his stuff wasn't even good half the time, but sometimes you just gotta suck it up and be a victim of supply and demand.

The car windows are already down and Tony gives a wave, slightly impatient.

"Greetings," MODOK wheezes, his eyes squinting despite being guarded behind giant moon-shaped glasses. His hair is oily and Tony can smell his body odour wafting into the car.

Let's get this over with. "MODOK, just the man I love to see in these specific situations only." MODOK grins and nods. He's never been able to tell when people are making fun of him. "Was wondering what the dealio would be on getting an eighth?"

"Half," Clint coughs from the driver's seat. Tony rolls his eyes.

"Oh, apologies Tony…I can call you Tony, right?" He sucks in a breath through his teeth.

Tony stares. "Let's keep it to Stark during business hours."

MODOK nods meaningfully. "Probably wise, you never know who's lurking around. Who's _snitching_." He quickly looks over his shoulder, like he isn't selling drugs in the middle of the footpath under a glaring street light.

"Yeahhhhhhh. So, what's the damage for a half?"

MODOK shakes out of his craze. "Oh, yes, I was saying, Stark, that I give many apologies because I don't have any of…of the _green_ on me, right now." He scratches a blister on his neck.

Tony's mouth drops open.

"You're _kidding_ ," Clint says, twisting around. The shades somehow make him look even more furious.

"No. But I have some caps of pure MDMA I just got in if you wanted a competitive price—"

Clint has torn away from the curb before he can finish, leaving MODOK rasping in a puff of smoke from the exhaust. Natasha gives a delighted cackle but Tony is feeling more than a little put out.

"I was considering that, thank you very much."

"Which is why I got the fuck out of there," says Clint, smug.

"Well boys," Natasha says, "the search continues."

Indeed it does. Because they've put this much effort in already and Tony will be damned if he doesn't finish this night absolutely _bent_.

Their next option involves a phone call to one Bruce Banner. He picks up so quickly that Tony actually feels bad about why he's calling. Sure enough, one slimy request for his medical marijuana ( _just a taste!_ ) ends the same way it always does.

" _It's not—_ _ **sigh**_ _—it's not for recreational use, Tone. It's not for calming down, it's for calming down_ _ **me**_ _, when I'm….y'know._ "

Oh, Tony knows.

" _Besides, I don't even get the plant, it comes in this gross paste. Good luck?_ "

It's the least Tony can do to end the conversation there. He sighs, leaning his head over the back seat, phone lamely in hand. Not even Natasha is finding this fun anymore. She's almost out of twizzlers.

"Really?" Clint says, staring at Tony in the review mirror. "The great Tony Stark's pimp list ends after fucking Banner?"

"Yeah?" Tony bites back. "And where's your guy? Oh, I'm sorry, your ' _plug_ '. You guys are supposed to be the ones good at this."

"No one's been able to get shit after that east side gang got bust. Not our fault."

"Yeah and I usually go through Barnes, but I guess it _is_ my fault the asshole's spending the summer in Idaho with his boyfriend."

Natasha twists around. "Barnes is gay?" Oh. Right. Sore subject.

"Bi. Right?" Clint says.

"Oh no, that boy is one-hundred-per-cent grade A homosexual. Sorry Nat."

Natasha shrugs, trying to make her lips do anything but pout. "It's fine, I'm glad I helped him figure it out."

"You can _smell_ out secrets but you didn't notice your boyfriend was gay?" Clint sniggers.

"Fuck you, don't be a dick."

Natasha swings her legs around to kick Clint in the head and a petty struggle breaks out. Tony just sits back again, thinking intently. Clint's right—surely his list can't end there. Who does he know who's shifty enough to have a dealer, asshole enough to be alone on a Friday night and has Tony on their good side _just_ enough to agree to help?

Tony's head snaps up. Oh no.

Clint and Natasha immediately stop fighting as soon as Tony picks up his phone again. They start to question but Tony cuts them off with a sharp gesture, waiting for the dial tone. He barely has to wait two seconds before—

" _Hello Anthony_ ," Loki's voice oozes into Tony's ear, and _jesus christ_.

"How many time do I have to tell you not to call me that, it's so fucking creepy, nobody calls me that."

Loki Laufeyson is weird, to put it lightly. A pale, black-haired boy who's height would be intimidating if he weren't so shockingly thin, who showed up at school one day already neck deep in detention slips and glares from the teachers. He's a dark, sarcastic character with more than a little imbalance. A few rumours buzz around the school every now and then: Loki Laufeyson's dad is a serial killer, Loki Laufeyson totally drinks blood, Loki Laufeyson sets cars on fire in his spare time. Loki never fails to answer to each of these murmurs with a very well-practised shit-eating grin. He'd probably be expelled by now if he weren't so damned smart.

Why does this concern _Tony_ , you ask?

Fantastic question, Tony would say, because it really shouldn't. He was just the unlucky bastard tasked with cleaning the beakers in the science lab one afternoon and ended up opening the door to the infamous lanky teen, eating his sandwich alone at one of the desks. Tony wasn't surprised. Everyone knows Loki Laufeyson has no friends.

" _Well, well, well_ ," Loki had said with a smile too tense, " _looks like_ _you've caught me_."

A harmless interaction followed, really, filled with surprisingly hilarious and biting comments and one or two gazes at nimble-fingered hands, covered in bruises.

And after that, every now and then when Tony was feeling particularly bored, he'd go into the science lab at lunch and eat with Loki. Which was fine. They weren't friends or anything. It wasn't like Loki ever offered anything more than just company.

Speaking of.

" _Nobody? Interesting_ ," Loki says, too calculating for Tony's liking. " _It's past lunch hours. Why are you calling?_ "

"You home?" Tony asks.

A very long pause, and when Loki answers he sounds caught off guard. " _Um, yes? Why?_ "

"Who the fuck is it?" Clint hisses.

Tony quickly mumbles an address to him instead of answering and Clint frowns, but complies and soon the car's moving again.

"Aw, alone on a Friday night? It's summer Lokes, don't you have any plans?"

"We're driving to _Loki's_ house?" Clint screeches.

" _I have tons going on_ ," Loki says airily. " _There's this imbecilic rich kid, lives in this big mansion up on the hill, who likes to call people's houses at night, thinking he's cute. I'm gonna go cut his brake lights_."

Tony swallows. "Okay! Okay, I'm sensing I'm in need of back-peddling here."

" _Peddle away_."

"I didn't—" Tony sighs with a wince, is he really this much of an asshole on accident? He leans away from the others, voice lowering. "I didn't call to make fun of you. I was wondering if I could ask for a favour."

" _You're calling me in the middle of the night for a favour_."

"Yeah!" Tony says brightly, happy the conversation is going in his direction. "Look, this is totally uncalled for but it's the end of the school year and I'm _desperate_ , do you know where we can find some dope?"

" _Dope? Like crystal?_ " He doesn't sound bothered.

"What? No! Like, weed, dude." All three of them share looks.

" _Oh!_ " Loki says. " _You need my help finding weed_."

Tony doesn't like this 'need' word. "Well, I certainly would like your help finding weed."

The car pulls up to the side of a shitty looking bungalow with an overgrown lawn and peeling paint.

" _What will I get in return?_ "

That means Loki has a hook up and Tony could give his left testicle in return with how relieved he is. "Uhhh, I'll owe you a favour?" he offers instead. The line goes dead silent. "Loki?" Tony frowns, sitting up. "…Loki?"

Suddenly the car door opens and Tony _shrieks_ as Loki climbs into the backseat as nonchalantly as someone would a taxi. He raises an eyebrow at Tony's reaction, manoeuvring his bag-pack onto the floor.

"Did you….." Tony recovers slowly. He swallows and looks down at his phone. "Did you," he holds it up, "leave your phone on call for…..dramatic effect?"

Before Loki has the chance to look sheepish, Clint speaks from the front.

"Hey Loki, drink much blood lately?" He doesn't sound as outraged as before, but he still doesn't sound happy.

"I'm confused," Loki says. "Am I a vampire? Or is it just the blood drinking part that I do?"

"I think it's just the blood drinking part," Natasha says.

"Ah. Then no."

"So you got this magical dealer or what?" Clint says.

"Just start heading into town," Loki answers, digging into his bag-pack.

"Someone gonna pay for my fuel?" The fuel meter is full, so Tony gathers Clint's just scrapping for a fight.

"I'll pay for your fuel if you stop being so fucking shitty," Tony says with a bat of his eyelashes. Clint grunts, getting the message and soon all of them are on their way, finally.

Loki pulls out a flip phone from his bag. It's a clunky silver thing that Tony hasn't seen since 2003, he thinks, and an idea pops into his head that makes him snort. "What is that, your burner phone?"

Loki starts clicking away at buttons and doesn't answer. Tony's humour leaves him in a cold flush. "…. _is_ that a burner phone?"

"Take the third exit off the freeway," Loki instructs and Clint's high must be wearing off because he just nods.

"Who's the guy?" he asks.

Loki shrugs. "Just some gangbanger called Thanos."

Tony laughs. "'Thanos'? Really?" Loki doesn't look up from his phone but he does smirk. "Wait," Tony says, sitting up, "how do you know actual drug dealers?"

Loki's smirk widens. He looks intent on not answering, which is why it's so funny to watch his face drop when Natasha then says, "Hey wasn't Thanos that guy who's dick you used to suck?"

Loki glares at the girl. Natasha grins and takes another bite of her twizzler. Tony doesn't know how or why Natasha knows that piece of information, but boy is Tony's opinion of Loki expanding by the minute.

Clint's laughing—Natasha has definitely scored first player on his X-box for that. "You sucked off a guy named Thanos?"

"Not his real name," Loki mutters under his breath.

"You do that often?" Clint's almost shaking with laughter. "What you do it for? A frozen coke? Haha! A fucking sandwich? Christ, your dad really is a serial killer isn't he?"

"Hey, lay off!" Tony yells suddenly. "Too much, Clint."

"I'm sorry," Clint says, looking back in the review mirror. "I'm sorry, dude, I'm just fucking high." He's still laughing.

Loki doesn't seem effected but his cheeks are faintly pink from the whole conversation. Natasha and Clint try to contain their sniggers and punch each other's shoulders which only succeeds in igniting more of the same.

"Sorry," Tony says, feeling like he needs to. "Clint's just high. And a dick."

Loki gives him a funny look that eventually smooths into a smile. He nods softly in appreciation.

For the next thirty minutes of the car ride Natasha and Clint both argue over what music they want, struggling between disco and indie rock, while Tony and Loki have a small conversation.

"Your dad's not really a serial killer, right?" Tony prods cheekily.

"No," Loki smiles. "Just a loser."

Oh. Tony remembers the peeling paint on the front door of Loki's house, the bruises on his arms. Tony instinctively looks for them now but he's wearing long sleeves, clad completely in dark green.

"What about your mom?"

"Died, giving birth to me," Loki says easily; rehearsed, almost gleeful in the way it stumps Tony. "And my brothers are off fighting something in the army. Probably each other."

"Lonely house," Tony says.

"Not for me," Loki says quickly.

Tony's able to relate. "Yeah," he says, sitting back and looking out the window as the freeway blurs passed them, "I don't like it when my dad comes home either."

He doesn't look for it, but Loki's mouth curls at the corner and Tony feels warm when he sees it.

Soon Clint needs more directions from Loki as they navigate their way into the thicket of the city. It's still relatively busy at this time of night and with school out, the police are a plenty. Driving down some main street, Clint starts to get paranoid.

"Guys, I think it's happening…..I think I'm freaking out," he says through his teeth, shoulders all tense. A giant Wendy's mascot looming over the side of a star-lit building isn't helping. "Anyone got a cigarette?"

"Ew, no, don't smoke in here, you'll stink out the whole car," Tony whines. "Just pull over—I'll drive."

"If I pull over they'll _know_ ," Clint rasps.

"Oh you big baby," Natasha sighs, plugging her phone into the stereo. Soon the unmistakable sound of drums and a synthesizer radiates through the vehicle and Tony is almost as confused as Loki.

"Um, Nat, how is Soft Cell's _Tainted Love_ going to solve anything—"

"No, no," Clint says, clearing his throat. "It's….fine."

Tony's mouth drops open. "Soft Cell is your safe music?" That is too funny.

"Hey, _Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret_ reached Platinum status at its release, thank you very much."

"Yeah you see, I didn't know that because I'm, like, a normal person."

But then Loki is quietly tapping his foot along and mouthing the lyrics and suddenly Soft Cell doesn't seem so lame anymore. Natasha sees it and joins in, throwing away the subtly. The dashboard almost breaks from the powerful stops she does to the two signature beats of the drums. The chorus is coming up and just before a pair of traffic lights turn green Clint says over his shoulder, "Sing along, fucker," so Tony guesses this is just going to be a Moment and he throws away his cynicism to belt out 80s British synth-pop.

Eventually they leave the glowing excitement of the city's centre to park in front of a very normal looking apartment building. It's not overly large, with a nice little garden at the front which is gated. The music is promptly turned off.

"This is it? It looks so…..normal," remarks Clint.

"This is a _very_ nice neighbourhood," Natasha agrees.

Loki clicks away at his phone for a bit before clacking it shut and looking up. "Well, this is it. I'll be back in a second." He opens the car door.

"Whoa whoa whoa wait a minute," Tony scrambles, leaning over and pulling the door shut, more aggressively than he means to. Loki gives him an incredulous look. "That's an _actual_ drug dealer up there."

"Yes," Loki says with a frown. Tony swallows. Clint and Natasha also don't seem to share his concerns.

"So that's, like, dangerous as shit! I'll come with you," he says before thinking.

Loki's confusion quickly simmers into irritation. "I can handle myself."

"Yeah," Clint snorts, "he's _handled_ Thanos before, remember?"

The reminder just makes Tony's stomach drop. "I don't care, I want to come with you, just for some protection in case something goes wrong."

"Oh," Loki says, violently sarcastic, "oh, you'll _protect_ me?" He even clutches his heart. "You'll beat up the big bad drug dealer for little helpless _me_?"

Now Tony is angry. "No need to be a dick about it, god," he sneers.

"Tony, just let the man do his thing," Clint says easily, trying to deescalate what's about to happen.

"I'm trying to be responsible here!" Tony argues.

"Do you always hold each other's hands while you buy your drugs _responsibly_?" Loki mocks.

"Shut up! I don't want to deal with the cops if one of you fuckers gets shot in the head!"

"Watch much NCIS lately?" Natasha can't help but smirk.

"You guys are being such assholes right now and I'm just trying to keep everyone safe," Tony sulks.

"No one asked you to save anything," Loki says.

"I'm not trying to—christ, okay, calm down, first—"

"Fuck you, you're the one yelling!"

"Well no one's _listening_!"

Everyone erupts into heated argument that's only stopped by the sudden sound of a metallic ringtone. Silence falls as everyone looks at the phone buzzing in Loki's hand.

Loki slowly opens it to see the caller and it's no secret who it is by his expression. He swallows and answers it, bringing it to his ear. Everyone holds their breath.

"Yeah?" he asks politely. "Mm-hm. Yeah, I'm just outside." Loki then looks up at them, eyebrow quirked in confusion. "Yeahhh? Just some….friends, I don't know. Well I didn't plan to bring them up."

Oh. Maybe there was a good reason why Loki didn't want Tony to come. Now Tony feels like a dick and is more than a little embarrassed.

Loki huffs, annoyed. "How was I supposed to know that?...I'm sorry," he says quieter, looking at the floor, hugging himself. This is probably a conversation he doesn't want to be having in a crowded car. "Fine. Okay. The one up the street? Okay. Yep. Bye." He snaps the phone shut and takes a deep breath. Something tells Tony that Thanos was hoping for more than a simple drug exchange. When Loki speaks again, his voice is steady. "New meeting place. Gas station car park, at the end of the street."

Clint nods and pulls away from the gutter without a word. They drive in complete silence.

When they reach the gas station Loki points out a small white car next to the ice trough. They park a couple spaces over, hand over their money and watch Loki get out and walk over. Tony can't see the driver in the shadows, but the hand that passes a brown parcel through the window looks like a woman's. The exchange is completed without incident and soon Loki is sliding back into the car, wagging his bag-pack. Done.

The ride back is quiet. Natasha chooses the music as she pleases and no one complains. Clint prohibits anyone from smoking up in the car before they reach their neighbourhood—"The cops around here hate me enough as it is." So Tony spends the drive sitting awkwardly next to Loki, head against the window.

When the bright lights of the city dull into the yellow glow of the suburbs and Clint asks whether he wants to bunk with him or head home, Tony decides he doesn't want to end the night just yet.

"Um, can you drop me at the park?" he asks instead. Clint looks surprised but doesn't comment. Tony shuffles before finally turning to Loki. "You…wanna come get high with me?" It's not until he says it out loud that he realizes it's the only way he wants his night to end. He wants to apologise.

Loki looks thrown by the invitation, but luckily any bitterness he's held during the past hour has ebbed away and he nods with a shrug. "Sure."

They pile out of the car and Tony just catches the "good night, love birds" from Natasha before he slams the door shut. The car squeals away with echoed laughter.

Both boys walk until they settle at the foot of a small hill, in front of the swing set. It's passed midnight now and the park is completely abandoned. Tony sits down, opening his bag-pack and getting out his helping of the weed along with his grinder and a few papers and tips. He's shit at rolling, but he's not gonna get Loki know that.

Loki sits with his chin resting on the palm of his hand, watching Tony struggle to wrap the overstuffed paper with shaking hands.

"Shit…. _shit_ ….ah, shit…" He's really trying. Loki continues to stare but doesn't comment or offer to help, which Tony appreciates greatly. Eventually he ends up with a lumpy joint, the filter sticking out far too much. But it's smokable and that means good enough.

"There you go," Tony beams, holding it up. "My apology blunt."

"Apology?" Loki asks with a frown.

"Well, yeah," Tony says. "For screaming at you in the car."

"Oh." Loki gently takes it. He looks at it, no, _admires_ it. "Thank you." Tony's chest swells more than it probably should and he quickly passes him a lighter.

"Will you do the honours?"

Loki gives a funny smile and lights the paper.

For an unknown amount of time they sit and smoke, letting the effects take them over. Tony almost moans at his first drag, _god yes_ , totally worth it, one-hundred-per-cent. He feels his high creep into him slowly and he starts feeling giddy, not because of the weed yet, but just because he was going to get _high_ and that was _fantastic_. Then after his third lungful or so it _happens_ and he starts giggling. Yes, _yes_ , this was good. He's overwhelmed by a sleepy, warm happiness and he suddenly knows _exactly_ what he wants to do, he wants to swing, there's a whole swing set in front of them! They should use it!

Loki doesn't seem to be feeling it yet so he leans against the metal frame, puffing away. Tony flops over the seat on his stomach, softly swinging himself in little superhero poses before letting his arms dangle. Experiencing the effects of gravity was _awesome_.

"This is fantastic," he mumbles. "I could stay like this for….a hundred, million years…" Unfortunately gravity turns devious as his mouth fills up with saliva and he quickly has to stand before he starts drooling. Just the thought of it has him mortified. He wipes his mouth just in case.

"Sooooo," Loki says as Tony jump onto the seat and starts swinging with his arms. He takes another drag and blows it out slowly. "This night has been pretty fucking weird."

"We should do it more often," Tony says, slightly breathless. "Hang out, I mean."

When Loki doesn't answer for a while Tony gets the terrifying idea that maybe he's bored, that Tony is boring him. He subconsciously wipes his mouth again—did he wipe his mouth before?

Thankfully Loki does answer. "I would like that," he says very slowly. Tony gives him a grin he hopes looks normal.

The night lives on. After a while Loki starts to feel it and starts to feel it _hard_. Or maybe everything's just out of proportion. Tony doesn't know! He's fucking high! They're lying back on the grass, a second joint between his fingers, Tony's music playing softly between their heads, and wow the stars are fucking beautiful and the air is so nice and—

 _Holy shit_ Loki is saying something. How long has he been talking? Has Tony been staring into space for _hours_? Has any of this night actually _happened_?

"It's just, like, weird, to think about, like, how you're just _born_ , and you have no say in it, and, um, like, you could have been born to anyone anywhere and you're _here_ and you're _you_ , and, um, mm."

"Hmm," Tony hums, passing the joint over. "Yeah, I guess. Do you think about that a lot? Being born to another family?" Tony looks over to Loki's glazed eyes.

Loki worries his bottom lip between his teeth. "I don't know. I guess…I'm so much like my family and I hate my family."

Tony winces, not liking how hard that hits home. "Yeah." He wants to say more, to verbalize how much he fucking _gets_ that, but as soon as a half decent thought passes his mind it's gone before he can grasp it. Putting thoughts into sounds is so much effort. Language is crazy.

Wait, what were they talking about?

Loki passes the joint back and Tony sets it aside. If he smokes anymore he might just melt into the ground. He continues staring at the sky and tries to ignore how horny he is.

"Do you ever think about unicorns?"

A choked noise that isn't quite a laugh bubbles up Tony's throat. "Excuse—what?" He rolls his head over to look at Loki quizzically.

"I just don't think they're all that special," Loki shrugs.

Tony wants to answer but he's still getting over the fact that _scary loner Loki_ not only thinks about unicorns, but thinks about unicorns often enough to have a serious opinion of them. In the end what leaves his mouth is,

"You're cute as shit."

Loki looks at him and tries to control his expression before giving up and burying his face into the grass. After exhaling hotly and getting a hold of himself, he returns to look at Tony with a sly smile, cat-like. A terrifyingly exciting moment passes where they stare at each other, both alive with glee, until the tension snaps and Loki springs forward to catch Tony's mouth in a hard kiss.

Tony eagerly pushes himself up onto his elbows and Loki curls his fingers into his shaggy mop of brown hair. Tony feels delirious, he feels like the main character of a teen movie, he feels powerful, he feels on top of the world and he tries to say all of this through his tongue and teeth and Loki swallows it all just as enthusiastically, and Tony is certain this is what perfect is, no two people have ever been so in sync, riding the exact same high, only succeeding in building each other higher and higher; they're connected, they're minds are see-through, their emotions are maps laid out bare for each other and Tony has never felt so _with_ someone in his life, " _Well, well, well, looks like you've caught me—"_

And then Loki breaks the kiss and leans down to pick up the joint, smoking lazily. Tony leans back, lips wet and hair messy, breathless, watching in silence. Loki doesn't say anything and Tony feels the white hot passion he experienced mere seconds ago slowly melt away. By the time Loki lies back against the grass, Tony's can't remember what had him so crazed.

His music is thankfully still playing which helps him not to feel so suddenly lonely. He looks aimlessly around until he's sees Loki's burner phone.

 _Heh_. _Burner phone_.

Without really thinking, he grabs it, flips it open and breaks it in half.

Loki springs up like a jack-in-the-box. He stares at the broken phone, mouth agape.

" _What the fuck_ , Anthony?!"

Oh. Not a burner phone, then.

Woops.

* * *

 **A/N:** i listened to lana del rey once


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I'm back from the dead ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

* * *

Tony Stark is many things but in love is not one of them.

So what if even after Loki screams at him, smacks him over the head—" _Stupid stupid stupid!_ "—Tony still has that dopey expression on his face? So what if even after Loki snatches up his belongings with a murderous glare and trots off, Tony falls back onto the grass, breathless from a race be doesn't remember running? So what if Tony practically skips home and twirls into his bedroom decidedly more pink-faced than when he left it?

So what if Tony has played Frank Sinatra's _I Love You Baby_ for the twelfth time today?

So _what_?

So nothing, that's what.

Sure, he's been thinking about Loki a lot. How can he not, after a night like that? So much new information: Loki knows drug dealers! Loki hates his dad! Loki likes _unicorns_! He can't help himself from looking forward to the next time they'll meet.

Maybe he'll swing by his house and charm his way passed his father and surprise him. Maybe he'll whisk him up and show him his lab (Loki would _love_ that) and they can talk science all night. Maybe he'll just hang around the local mall for the next week, wandering around aimlessly until they run into each other and _oh my, what are the chances, fancy meeting you here, what a fantastic coincidence_ —

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder and pulls him from his thoughts.

"You need to stop," Bruce Banner urges desperately, his ever sleep-deprived eyes looking more bruised than usual.

Tony gives him a confused look.

They're sitting at a table on the edge of the food court, a large diet coke between them. And yes, Tony supposes he is doodling unicorns on his napkin and he might have been humming his new favourite song.

"Got something against the classics, Brucie?" Tony asks defensively.

"I do when it's the only thing my left ear has been hearing for the past hour," Bruce says, squeezing the bridge of his nose, eyes screwing shut. Tony looks at how he's practically falling asleep on the table and only feels a little bad for dragging him out of bed and into the shopping mall for the fourth day in a row. It's not _his_ fault Bruce isn't medically allowed coffee. "Okay," he lifts his head to sit it on his palm, his other hand absently playing with one of the straws sticking out of the cup, "we've looked at the fish in the pet-shop, we've insulted the old German guy at the candy store _and_ we've snuck into a theatre that was screening what could only be a Teletubby re-run. Is there _anything_ else you wanted to do here?"

Tony goes back to doodling, shrugging one shoulder. "I dunno. I like coming here. It's summer vay-cay, we can do what we like."

"For the fourth time this week?"

"Well yeah, but only because—"

"You wouldn't be coming here hoping to run into Loki, would you?"

Every crevice in Tony's body immediately clenches. He regrets telling Bruce all about that night. Except, he doesn't at all, really, because how could he ever keep his mouth shut?

In the end, he exhales a hot breath. "Pffft, what? Come on, that's…creepy, why would I want to run into Loki?"

"Because you're in love with him." Bruce's tone is as mild as ever.

Tony's pen falls onto the table in a loud clatter. "Wh-what! Bruce— _Bruce_ , that's—what makes you even—why would you even— _I_ don't even—ridiculous! That's—absolutely ridiculous." Because it _was_ , honestly, where did Bruce get off on an idea like _that_? Tony Stark in _love_? Ha! Tony Stark in _love_ with _Loki_? Haha! HA! Absolutely ridiculous.

"Huh," Bruce says without much bravado. "Too bad, cos he's right over there."

The pen and napkin fly onto the floor in one grand swoosh as Tony spins in his seat to look where Bruce nods to.

Sure enough Loki is not ten feet away, dressed in a thinly striped sleeved shirt, looking at a nail polish display, slurping on a berry smoothie.

Tony doesn't even have time to curse his own impulsivity before he's sprung from the table and is barrelling over, and it's not until he's skidded to an awkward stop that he realizes he hasn't prepared a thing to say.

Loki looks up from where he'd been admiring a bottle of liquid black and only looks mildly surprised. Tony stumbles and clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. "Uh, hey," he starts nervously. Loki doesn't look angry to see him, in fact his brows raise delightfully. Tony gestures to the display tensely. "Nail polish, huh? I hear wine red is very, um, in." He coughs again.

Loki waits a few beats before placing the bottle he was holding back and lifting his smoothie up to his lips to suck at the straw. When the silence becomes uncomfortable ( _more_ uncomfortable) Tony decides to throw any promise of nonchalance to the wind and bites the bullet.

"So, uh, sorry about breaking your phone in half when I got high. I thought it would be funny. Not because I was breaking your stuff! Just, the whole burner phone thing. But I guess I could've just made a joke…..verbally. Uh. Yeah. Sorry."

Loki, damn him, doesn't say a word. He just continues playing with the straw, staring at Tony intently through his lashes. Is he….angry? He doesn't look angry. In fact, Tony thinks, he looks like a bird admiring a particularly shiny bauble. Maybe Loki has forgiven him. It _was_ just a practical joke, right? A funny one even! Besides, weren't flip phones like thirty bucks these days?

Tony knew they'd be laughing about this in no time.

Mood climbing higher, Tony tries his cutest smile. "Um, but I had a lot of fun. That night." Blushing wasn't a part of the plan, but Loki actually _bats his eyelids_ and suddenly everything feels very hot. He coughs out a small laugh and scratches the back of his neck again. "I was actually wondering if….you wanted to….hang out? Again?" He looks at him, eyes twinkling.

Loki releases the straw from his mouth, smiling shyly downwards. He gives a great sigh, casually popping the lid off his drink. "Oh, Anthony," he murmurs affectionately, and when he looks up again the fluttering eyes have turned cold and predatory and before Tony has time to register anything Loki is pouring smoothie all over the top of his head.

Vaguely, Tony hears Bruce gasp some ways behind him but he's petrified to the spot. He stands there in the middle of the shopping mall, still as a statue, staring at Loki's ice green eyes, feeling the pink fruity goodness gooping down the sides of his face, and tries to think about how exactly this all went so very wrong.

The drink is thick enough for it to be a long, humiliating process.

When the cup is empty Loki smiles sweetly, even scrapes off a line of syrup making its way along Tony's brow. Then he _licks it off his finger_. Eventually Tony hears the sound of the plastic cup being thrown in the trash and footsteps echoing away and if it weren't for the nail polish merchant suddenly turning and spotting the mess and starting to yell, or Bruce rushing up with a hand full of serviettes to apologise and lead him away, Tony thinks he might've just melted into the floor along with the drink.

It's outside, by the water fountain, where Tony embraces the realization.

"I'm in love with him," he murmurs. Bruce immediately stops scrubbing the sugar out of his hair.

"Excuse me? Did you see what just happened?"

"I'm in love with him," Tony repeats, almost wildly. "Bruce. Bruce you were right, it's meant to be, he's the only one—"

" _Tony_. He just poured Jamba Juice on your _head_."

Tony whips his head up. "To test me. To scare me off." He gasps, newfound knowledge brimming inside him. "I have to make it up to him."

Bruce leans back. " _You_ need to make it up to _him_ ," he repeats.

"Yes," says Tony feverishly.

"Tony—"

"You said it yourself Bruce."

Bruce quickly waves his hands. "I was joking, I was making fun of you, god, please don't take me literally." But Tony has already sprung to his feet, ignoring the wet napkins that fall off his neck and shoulders.

"This is like an epiphany. My world view has never been so clear."

"Or deluded! Tony. _Tony_ ," Bruce says, scrambling to his side, "Loki is psychotic—he's imbalanced! He doesn't have any friends and he _likes_ not having any. I once saw him save a little kids' ice-cream cone just so he could drop it himself."

"Fuck, he's so sexy…."

"And!" Bruce adds quickly, sensing he's losing him, "I know he and you had a nice….. _moment_ , that night—"

"It was _such_ a nice moment….."

"But! You were smoking weed, yes?" Tony nods and Bruce eagerly nods back, hoping he'll catch on. "So maaaaaybe you were a little….." He tries to gesture Tony along, but he only stares blankly. "….high?" he finishes.

Tony locks him in an unrelenting gaze. "I have never been more sober in my life. No way, Brucie Bear. This is it. He's Leia and I'm Solo. He's Carrie and I'm Mr Big." He looks off into the distance. "And Johnny's gotta get Baby a new phone."

And with a chaste kiss to Bruce's cheek, he struts off.

Bruce sits on the curb, head in a whirlwind. "He really thinks he's Mr Big?"

Repaying Loki turns out to be a lot less dramatic than Tony thought. It only takes one of his extra, unopened, ultra-expensive phones dug out from one of his draws, put in a box and slapped with a few cute stickers delivered to Loki's front door and Tony considers a good deed done.

—

It's the second day of Loki Not Coming To Tony With His Immense Gratitude (working title). Tony's moved on from Frank Sinatra and onto _Nothing Compares to You_. The Prince version.

—

Day three of Loki Not Coming To Tony With His Immense Gratitude (okay, so he couldn't come up with anything catchier, sue him, he has the lawyers).

"STRIKE! Fourth one in a row! Applause, please."

"Fuck off Clint. No one's even having fun anymore."

Natasha's only half-right, because Bruce has just gotten his second chocolate milkshake at the bar and has gotten little stars in his eyes. He won't be leaving it any time soon but that's fine, Tony's been taking his turns for the past hour, but even with their combined "mega score" they're still ways behind Clint and his stupid hawk-eyes.

The bowling alley is almost deserted. Even with school holidays on, no one has a schedule _that_ lacking to be on their second game at 2pm on a Tuesday.

Clint's bounding over to retrieve his ball with a giant grin and begins lining up strike number five.

"Bunch of sore losers. The lotta you."

It's then Peter Quill and his crew slide into the lane next to them. Gamora's not among them and Tony makes sure not to notice extra hard.

"Well, well, well," Peter says, hands in his stupid 80's denim jacket's acid green pockets. "Well, well, well, well, well—"

"What are you, a prospector?" Tony says. He looks to Natasha and Bruce who are unimpressed. "Get it? Wells. Like prospecting times."

Peter Quill and Tony Stark should be two peas in a pod—honestly, two white sarcastic assholes? Someone call Cupid because he just lost a couple arrows! The only problem is that Quill is dumb. Like, textbook dumb. He's a good right-hand to have in a drunk shenanigan every now and then, but in the meantime Tony is perfectly fine being only mildly annoyed by his presence. At least he brought Drax. That guy is the coolest.

"I'll be prospecting your _asses_ when I kick them with my awesome bowling skills, bichaz!" Quill scoops up a ball with blue swirls.

"Ass-prospecting seems like a poor investment," says Drax, the absolute legend. He picks up the largest bowling ball out of all of them and holds it in his massive palms. "This is the one I chose."

"Buddy, pal, Drax, baby," Rocket, the tiny, scrappy kid who's somehow managed to grow half a face of stubble since Tony last saw him says. He comes up to him and gently takes the ball out of his hands. The ball's almost as big as his head. "Everyone _knows_ that you have to hold your bowling ball like this oh look it's my turn might as well use this one now that I have it thanks!" He trots over to the alley proudly.

Drax looks crestfallen. "Now I have nothing."

"Hey, Drax," Bruce says. "Wanna sit at the bar and drink milkshakes and do absolutely nothing else with me?"

"Yes!" Drax exclaims, clapping his hands together with a laugh. "Yes! Yes!"

"STRIKE FIVE!" Clint shouts, twirling into a pose, capturing the attention of the ranks.

Quill's brows pull together. "You guys started without us?"

Tony looks at him. "We didn't _invite_ you."

" _I am Groot! I am Groot! I am Groot!"_

"Ugh, hang on guys, I gotta check on Groot." Rocket chases the tiny voice into his pocket and pulls out a slim device.

"Does your tamagotchi need to be burped?" Tony almost hides the comment under his breath, but it's too late. Rocket immediately bristles and stalks up to Stark with an expression that clearly doesn't give a damn about the almost two foot height difference.

"For the last time, _Stark_ , Groot is a Type II A.I that I _created_ —"

Tony rolls his eyes. "Oh please, I was creating comprehensive motherboards when I was six."

"—and raised through operant conditioning and reactionary re-run cycles—"

"It can say _one line_ over and over again."

"—and he's one upgrade away from evolving into a Type III with a twenty terabyte memory implant and he's beautiful and honest and _I'm going to teach him to love!_ "

"Is anyone paying attention to my perfect game? That's, like, actually a big deal for someone my age." Clint goes ignored.

Quill gets between Rocket and Tony. "Let's stop there guys. There's no competition in bowling."

"There's one winner, it's obviously a competition," Tony says.

"Then I'm going to beat you in it," Rocket sneers.

"Uh, _yeah_ , that's how competitions _work_."

Some employees are starting to give them side-eye so they quickly get on with the game.

"' _Star-Lord'_?" Natasha echoes, reading the scoreboard. Quill beams, leaning against the bar beside her.

"Yeah, it's my DJ name. Tryna get it to stick, get some traction, you know? I got three whole new follows on my Soundcloud page last week."

While Natasha doesn't even try to look impressed, Tony lines up his ball. "This one's for you, Brucie Baby!" He lunges with all his might and the ball goes spinning into the gutter.

Tony deflates. He turns to Bruce, who shrugs. Everyone's too embarrassed to laugh but Rocket, who's currently bent over at the stomach.

"I think you did wonderfully, Tony," Drax says.

"Oh thank god, Drax approves, that's all I need," Tony exhales, dragging himself over the bar.

Rocket declares something triumphant but Tony pays no attention. As the teens all watch him struggle to carry his massive bowling ball let alone line up a shot, Tony pulls out his phone. He sighs.

"Still no Loki?" Bruce asks.

"No," Tony whines.

"Fuck him," Natasha says. "Honestly. Save yourself some respect."

Quill leans over. "Who are we talking about?"

"Tony's in love with Loki. You know, Laufeyson?" she fills in.

"Who's that?"

"Yeah, not really looking to make this into a group convo type thing—" Tony starts.

"Serial killer dad? Drinks blood?" Natasha continues. "Looks like the backup singer to an emo band from 2005?"

"Oh! Yeah, that guy graffitied my locker once. What about him?"

"Really? What did he write? No, actually, I don't care—you know, this is kind of a private issue?"

"Tony's in love with him."

Tony buries his face in his hands.

"What!" Quill exclaims, face wide with delight. "Tony's in love with Loki the emo vampire?"

"No, not a vampire, it's just the blood drinking he does," Natasha corrects. "Fact-checked."

"Who wants to drink whose blood?" Drax interjects, very confused. Tony groans. He's clearly in hell. This bowling alley is on fire and he's on fire because he's in hell.

"Gotcha," Quill says, adjusting his lean. "No, yeah, Gamora talks about that guy all the time."

Tony's head snaps up. "What? Gamora knows Loki? How? When? In what way?"

"Yikes."

"Shut up, Nat."

"Oh, nah, she doesn't know him, her sister does. Apparently he's in some shit with her and I know literally nothing about it, but apparently he agreed to steal alcohol with her, because he has a fake ID, but he ended up bailing on them and leaving with the liquor money and she ended up in juvie for like three days."

"That sounds like you know literally everything about it," Natasha deadpans.

Tony's head whirls. "Do you know what he's up to now? Did she mention anything about a new phone—real shiny, top of the line—possibly with a hint of jealousy?"

"No, but she _did_ mention her sister was throwing a party in her apartment tonight." He pauses, looking very satisfied. "And that things were going to get _bitchy_."

"HA! Strike!" Rocket suddenly cheers from the alley.

"No one cares, Rocket," Clint says empathetically.

"Awww."

Soon Tony and the gang pack up and head off, despite the whines and begs of Quill (hey, they _were_ already on their second game, the natural life span for finding bowling fun). Natasha and Clint immediately drive off but Bruce stops Tony in the parking lot.

"Hey. If Loki contacts you tonight, you know it's because of some scheme with Gamora's sister, yeah? Is that as obvious as I think it is? You know that, right? I need to know that you know, because you must know."

"Yeah, I know," Tony grumbles. Bruce drops it after that, which Tony's grateful for. They both know he's not going to listen to any advice anyway.

—

 _Ping!_

6pm on the fucking dot.

Tony bounds out his front door and has just enough time to collect himself and get into a casual position before Loki turns and looks up. He's wearing another long sleeved shirt with a little sewn rose on the pocket. He's also holding his new phone.

Loki looks Tony up and down and smirks. He looks back down at his phone as he slowly saunters forward, tapping away with painted nails. After three steps Tony feels another ping from his pocket and pulls his own phone out.

 _I'd like to cash in that favour_.

Tony swallows and looks up. "I'm sorry for dumping that juice on your head," Loki says. Ah, less romantic than Tony was feeling a second ago, but at least he looks genuinely apologetic.

"It was a smoothie," he corrects. "A really, really thick smoothie."

Loki bites his lip. "I'm really, really sorry?"

Tony holds his resolve for exactly three seconds. "Yeah okay I forgive you. What's up?"

Loki looks at the sports car parked behind black iron gates. "Be my chafer? I have a party invite. I would catch the bus, but for reasons I don't want to mention I need to make a good entrance. Also, fresh nails, you know how it is."

"Let me guess," Tony says, shoving his hands into his pockets as he steps forward. "You're going to Gamora's sister's party, and you need to make a good entrance because last time you saw her you got her arrested."

"I didn't _get her arrested_ ," Loki immediately retaliates, rolling his eyes. He looks like he wants to defend his case more, but closes his mouth. He deflates. "If you can't it's no issue. It's not like I'm forcing you. It was just a thought." Loki makes it two steps before Tony stops him.

"We can take the Lexus. My dad will know if we touch the Bentley."

And so now Tony is driving very responsibly with a very clear head down the expressway. Except he isn't because Loki fluttered those stupid lashes at him again and Tony's stupid heart did the bodily equivalent of ripping it's clothes off in one swoop like Jim Carey in Bruce Almighty. So now Tony is sitting in the passenger's seat trying not to grip the door handle too obviously whilst Loki murders the fourth gear.

They arrive at the party very, very quickly.

It's apparently being held in a tiny, ugly apartment block on a street with one working street light. The driveway is uneven and the letter boxes have graffiti. Tony can already hear the music booming from one of the apartments on the second floor as Loki pulls in, and can see a purple glow emitting from the one windows that isn't boarded up.

Tony doesn't know why the hell they had to take a sports car to make a good entrance. He thinks just arriving with two shoes would get you some raised middle fingers.

Loki stops the car. There's a small group of kids leaning near the door, smoking.

"Well, thanks for flying Air Tony," Tony says and immediately cringes, because it's maybe the stupidest attempt at humour he's made yet. Loki doesn't answer. He's preening himself in the mirror, pushing his black locks back.

"You're not coming in?" he asks suddenly.

"I thought I was just your chaffer," Tony says cautiously.

"Well, considering I actually drove and you're here already…" Loki looks at him. "You don't have to. I'm not forcing you."

Isn't he? Somehow Tony doubts that. He can't remember doing a single thing he hadn't been reeled into by the fucker in the past hour. But hey, free alcohol. He just shrugs, which is always the coolest answer and they both climb out of the car.

The kids by the entrance don't give them any trouble but they sure do glare. Loki ignores them, almost bouncing into the building and up the stairs. He knocks on the door to apartment number three and it immediately clicks open to reveal a chick Tony would only describe as emo, which is insane, because he's pretty sure they all died off back in 2009.

The music is already so loud he can't overhear what her and Loki say to each other, but she doesn't look happy to see him either. Maybe it's Loki's friendship thing? Loki waves him in with a gleeful expression and they enter into a lounge room. Sand coloured carpet, bright orange three-seater along the back wall, a screen on the wall projecting some black and white horror movie compilation and boxes topped with beer bottles and ashtrays. It's dark, the only lights either stringed up on the walls or mounted LEDs pulsing cold, royal colours, and Tony can see the metal in the ears of all the youths that fill up the room glint. It's definitely not the crowd he's used to. He's not even a hundred per cent sure this is a party, because no-one's dancing— everyone's slouching and drinking and smoking, looking very uninterested in just about everything. The room smells so much like tobacco Tony has to cough.

"Neb's in the back room," Tony hears the girl who let them in say and he follows Loki down a hall that's more of the same. There's a fist-sized hole in the wall and when he peeks into the kitchen—the only place so far that has the lights on—he doesn't see a fridge.

At the end of the hall is a bead divider and it's all very dramatic when Loki pulls them aside to unveil Gamora's sister, Nebbie, sitting between two other girls on a low couch. If Tony thought the lounge room spelt like cigarettes it's nothing compared to here.

Nebbie is terrifying to look at. Tony only manages it head-on for a couple seconds. Head shaved bald, weird tattoos that _have_ to be a hit list and a little too much leather to be comfortable. She's so skinny her cheek bones look like gashes in her face, her collar bones protruded enough to give her otherwise well fitted jacket some give.

Loki stands politely in front of the coffee table, smiling. Nebbie definitely isn't. The entire room grows stiff.

"You weren't invited," she says lowly. Her glare somehow makes the low angle an advantage.

"I don't need to be invited," Loki says sweetly.

"No, you just don't care to ask because you know no one wants you around."

"I couldn't ask," Loki says, flipping his phone over in his hands. "New phone, see."

"Which drug dealer bought you that?"

"Anthony!" Loki says cheerfully, twirling around to present him. Nebbie's spotlight glare seems to illuminate him to the whole room and he decides he should've stayed in the car.

"Tony…Stark?"

"Das me." Tony shuffles.

Nebbie smiles and it's so much more chilling than the glare. She rests her chin on her palm. "So you bring the guy who's been boning my sister to a party you weren't invited to a week after sending me to jail? Sounds like I'm three seconds away from beating the shit out of you."

"'Jail'? Nebbie, please," Loki says, still as casual as ever. "You had to stay at the station overnight. It's not my fault the police found out about your parking ticket collection."

"Yes it is!" Nebbie suddenly yells, brimming with emotion. "Yes it _is_ , Loki, because you called them!"

" _Nebbie_. The liquor guy was sizing me up, he saw you loitering about outside ( _great_ hiding place by the way), he was about to call over his manager! At that point I have limited options. I either keep my face up and the manager sees my ID, or I point out the clearly no-good, free-loading maybe _dangerous_ teenagers sitting outside and how they're destroying the neighbourhood and that if he wasn't just about to start calling the authorities I would. Ergo: I give trust. I get trust."

"You gave him a lie and sent me to jail. I don't think you've gained trust from anyone. You could have told me."

"How suspicious would it be for me to go over to the teenagers I had just reported?"

 _This little shit might just talk his way out of this one_ , Tony thinks with no small amount of astonishment.

"And you didn't have to run off with the liquor."

"That the cashier had just seen me buy for _myself_?"

"My car got towed, Loki!"

"And I kept my ID!"

They stand off for a couple seconds. He can almost hear Nebbie's teeth grinding over the weird music.

"I want a bottle of Sky. The big ones," she snaps. Loki does an inclines of his head that ends up looking like a small curtsy. "And Brooklyn Gin. And I want a case of beer."

"That all?" Loki asks sweetly.

Nebbie goes a bit pink and quickly looks at the others in the room before mumbling, "…and two bottles of Passion Pop."

"Anything for you, darling," Loki says, finally stepping over the coffee table and squeezing in between the others on the couch. He snatches a cigarette right out of a girl's mouths and starts smoking it. "Now. Let's actually start this party, mm?"

Tony warms up to the vibe eventually. He appreciates the whole 'kick-a-hole-in-the-wall-fuck-the-police' vibe, even though he's never had the exact urge to break bottles. The music's not even that terrible now that he's been listening to it for a while.

Nebbie also turns out to not be _that_ scary. It seems when she's not confronting someone the only other emotion she can express is stiff awkwardness. Tony asks her where she met her girlfriend and the poor woman's head goes pink almost all the way around.

Tony wonders how Loki and them all know each other. He wonders if this is Loki's scene or if he's just passing through. Are all his friendships based on owing people alcohol?

He had hoped he could actually have a conversation with Loki at some point but then Loki starts drinking and holy hell Tony did not take him for a light weight. It's not another hour before Tony has his arm over his shoulders, cautiously leading him out through the hazard that is the apartment, thanking everyone for the hospitality as they flick ash onto the carpet. The make it down the stairs, Loki giggling the entire way and they exit into the hot air of the night.

When Tony sees his car he freezes. Those kids that were hanging around the entrance are gone but the beer bottle lying on the concrete along with the shattered glass of his car definitely only has one culprit.

"Holy shit." Tony all but let's Loki drop to the ground. He walks up to the window, blinking.

No. Not _his_ car. _Dad's_ car.

"Fffffffffffffffffffffffffuck," he hisses under his breath, pulling his hair. Loki pulls himself upright behind him.

"Oh no. Will you get in trouble for that?"

"Uh…" Honestly? Tony doesn't know. He can't remember the last time Howard parented him. He can't even remember the last time he fucked up this bad. "Let's just…..let's just get home."

The drive home is quiet. Loki hums along to the radio. Tony feels like half their relationship has been nothing but tense, silent car trips and he hates it. But who is he kidding himself. What relationship? He just owed Loki a favour. That's _it_. He's been a loser all night. Loki's wearing _nail polish_.

Hang on. Tony looks over at said nails, tapping away on Loki's knee. "Wine red?" he asks, eyebrow raised.

Loki looks at him, then at his hand. "Hm? Oh…..yeah," he smiles like he's just gotten caught doing something he shouldn't. "It's in this season."

Tony might as well have just done a line of coke. Suddenly he's glad for the gaping hole in his window because he might've died from instant heat stroke otherwise.

Maybe this night isn't complete bogus. Maybe Loki actually wanted him at the party.

"So…..I talked to Quill today. Y'know Peter Quill?" Loki gives a small noise of affirmation. "Well, the little birdie told me that you gratified his locker once. What'd you write?"

Loki raises an eyebrow. "You want to know what I wrote on Peter Quill's locker in ninth grade?" he doesn't sound annoyed. "How could this possibly be of any interest to you?"

"Don't get me wrong, I love the guy," Tony continues. "But I can't imagine you were stumped for choices."

"I was stumped because there were so many. _And_ he had to understand it. In the end I just wrote 'everything is where you left it'."

Tony snorts. "Classic. Psychological warfare."

"Warfare that _failed_. He kept it up for the whole year, said it was an inspirational quote he coined himself and suspiciously always had somewhere to be whenever someone asked him what it meant."

Tony laughs. _Quill, buddy_.

They giggle until Tony pulls up to Loki's house to see the front light on and a large silhouette standing under it. The car immediately goes silent. Loki stares, unmoving. Tony breathes once, twice, then, "is that your dad?"

Loki's hands clench. He obviously didn't expect to be greeted. "Unfortunately." His voice lacks the bite it's had all night. Loki looks down at his lap, takes a deep breath and then looks at Tony with a smile. "Thanks for driving me!" He gets out, closes the door and leans down to wave through the window and Tony slowly waves back and it feels like the least sincere thing he's ever done. Loki straightens up and continues to stand by the car until Tony realizes with a jolt that he's waiting for him to leave. Feeling tightness in his chest, he does.

He arrives to his own house a few minutes later and when the car is turned off and the garage is closed up he sits there in the driver's seat. He pulls out his phone and dials.

" _Tony? What do you want?_ " Howard sounds irritated, but that's nothing new. He also sounds very awake despite the hour, which is also nothing new.

"Hey dad. I broke another car. Just the window though."

" _What—? Hang on—_ " Talking and footsteps and murmuring. It sounds crowded on the other line. Tony's not even sure where Howard is right now. Maybe it's not so late for him. Tony waits long enough that he could almost believe the man had forgotten he was even on the phone.

"Dad?"

" _What—Tony? Tony—I'm very busy right now, you know not to call when I'm working._ "

"You're always working," Tony just can't help but say, even under his breath. "I broke the car," he repeats, louder. "Not my fault."

" _Okay—no, this'll be over in a second, no, hang on a sec—then call the dealership, okay? I don't have time for this_."

The call ends. Tony leans his head back and listens to the even tempo of the car telling him his lights are still on, and eventually falls asleep.


End file.
